


Perfect Fit

by granger_danger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Curvy Hermione Granger, Drinking, Enthusiastic Consent, Explict Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Ginny Weasley: Dick Whisperer, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Height Differences, Humor, Light BDSM, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-War, Power Bottom Hermione Granger, Reformed Draco Malfoy, Romance, Service Top Draco Malfoy, Shameless Smut, Short Draco Malfoy, Size Difference, Smut, Tall Hermione Granger, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, sex positive Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/pseuds/granger_danger
Summary: “What’s the height difference like, when it comes to sex?” Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively.Feeling eyes on her neck, Hermione looked up to find Draco staring at her from across the room. He appeared to be multitasking; while chatting amiably with Harry, he was also sending her a secret message with his gaze, another psychic missive detailing how her dress, lovely as it was, would look much better on his bedroom floor.“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Hermione lifted her chin and fluffed her hair, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “But it does have … certain advantages.”*A fluffy, funny, filthy smut-biscuit written for Musyc's Dramione Height Difference Mini-Fest 2020 and featuring a tol!Hermione and a smol!Draco*
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 55
Kudos: 243
Collections: Dramione Height Difference  2020





	Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Dramione Height Difference Mini-Fest. This fic features a tall!curvy!Hermione and a short!Draco. This one goes out to all my fellow tall gals! 
> 
> I regret to inform you that the catcall at the beginning of this story was taken from my real, actual life. 🙄😂
> 
> I was a bit behind on the fest deadline, so I spent all day frantically grinding out perhaps the filthiest smut I've ever written. 😅 This has not been betaed; all errors are mine alone!

Hermione Apparated into an alley across the way from the Leaky, pausing to smooth her olive green sweater dress over her generous curves before stepping out onto the street.

“Gorgeous!” A man in a peacoat, collar raised against the wind, wolf-whistled as he passed her. “You’re a woman of _stature!”_

Being notably tall — measuring five-foot-eleven not counting the hair, currently standing six-foot-two in cheeky chunky ankle booties — Hermione had thought she’d heard it all, but this one was new. She held two fingers aloft behind her without looking back or breaking her stride. 

“Fuck off!” she called cheerfully, wrinkling her nose.

Draco was pacing outside the door of the pub, lean and compact and only slightly twitchy, as impeccably dressed as ever. As good as he looked in his clothes, all platinum hair above charcoal wool and crisp white linen, Hermione couldn’t help but think of how mouth-watering he looked when divested of them, of all the particular ways in which his chest and arms and shoulders were lithe and densely muscled. She felt her cheeks pinken a bit, and not from the cold. 

“Oh good.” He shot her a wry smile as she reached him, his eyes bright: gleaming grey with the faintest twinge of blue. “I worried you wouldn’t make it until after they’d arrived. Then I couldn’t have done this.” He stepped into her and grasped the back of her neck, pulling her down into a hard, reckless kiss as his free hand roamed dangerously close to her bum. 

“Careful, now.” She laughed against his mouth before stepping back and glancing around. Dusk fell over Charing Cross Road in increments, the sky looming dark and threatening drizzle; there was no sign yet of Harry and Ginny, but they would be arriving any moment now. “You know I have to tell Harry before anyone else sees us or it will spell our certain doom.”

“Well, how can you expect me to keep my hands off you,” he drawled, his fingers already traversing the cable knit, wandering along her sides and over her hips, “when you’re wearing this fetching number?” He surveyed her appreciatively, which was gratifying, considering she had chosen this dress mainly for the figure-hugging qualities of its knit. Draco conveyed with a simple lift of eyebrow his very involved future plans regarding removing this particular dress from her person. Then he sighed, his thin lips pressed together as he looked up at her. “Are you certain you want to tell everyone we’re together _tonight_ of all nights?”

Hermione squeezed his hand and shrugged. “Fifty birds with one stone. And more social pressure for them to behave. We’ll give them something to remember our ten-year Hogwarts reunion by. Besides, I’ve already told Ron, and he’s physically unable to hold a secret for more than 24 hours.” She ran a thumb over the sharp arch of Draco’s cheekbone. He was flushed and smirking but tense, nearly humming with kinetic energy. “Why, Malfoy? Are you losing your nerve on me?” 

Draco shook a stray lock of hair from his eyes and scoffed. “Of course not. Let’s do it. But you do keep me on my toes, Granger.” He stretched up and pecked the corner of her mouth, lingering longer than strictly necessary before pulling back with a Cheshire cat grin. “Literally and figuratively.” 

“I suppose I do, and the only person who enjoys it more than me is _you.”_ She booped him on his adorably pointy nose, which he promptly wrinkled in faux protest. “Come in five minutes after me! And no PDA until after I tell Harry.” 

* * *

“You’re with _Malfoy_?” A bit of foam from Harry’s butterbeer clung to his upper lip as he leveled a surprised glance at her: gently skeptical, but mostly baffled. “Isn’t he a bit —”

“What?” Hermione crossed her arms and spun on her barstool to face him. “Prejudiced? Harry, you’ve been his partner for the better part of a decade. You know as well as I do how sincerely he’s changed —”

“You know that’s true, love.” Ginny rested an elbow on Harry’s shoulder from where she was perched behind his stool, and Hermione’s heart swelled at her preemptive support. 

Harry sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “No, not that. I reckon he proved himself when he went undercover in that mission to round up straggling Death Eaters right after he started as an Auror. He very nearly saved my life, that time.”  
  
“Don’t forget the case with the illegal thestral breeding ring.” Hermione raised a brow pointedly.

“Not to mention the whole Hogwarts debacle two years back,” Ginny chimed in, leaning over to wipe the foam mustache from Harry’s face.

“No, he’s made good, it’s not that...” Harry ran a hand through his mussed back hair sheepishly. “Only isn’t he —”

“What then? Arrogant? Too posh?” Hermione heard that jagged edge of her own voice as she stared at Harry, refusing to break her defiant gaze.

Harry’s cheeks had gone a bit pink, and he blustered, hesitating. 

_“What!?”_ she demanded, bringing her hand down rather hard on the polished teak bar of the Leaky. 

“Short, Hermione. Isn’t he a bit short for you?” Harry lifted his hands, though whether in supplication or in defense, she could not tell. He yelped as Ginny elbowed him sharply. 

A tide of clear, bright laughter welled up in Hermione’s throat, spilling over unbidden. She laughed so hard she had to wipe a tear away from her eye, all while Harry hunched over the bar looking as though he desired to melt into the floor. Of all the arguments she had prepared herself for tonight — and they were many — relative height was not among them. 

Across the pub, all five feet and five inches of Draco Malfoy — formerly prejudiced, yes, but rather remarkably reformed; arrogant, well, arguably, but in an admittedly compelling way; short, sure, but seeker fit with a sharp, athletic handsomeness, his features all perfectly proportioned — leaned lazily against a pillar having a casual chat with Ron, who was nearly a foot taller. Draco somehow still managed to give the impression of looking ever-so-slightly down his nose even when he was craning his head up, which she added to her secret mental list of his most attractive qualities.

“A bit short? _That’s_ why you’re surprised?” She spun back to Harry and scoffed, shaking her head as a second wave of laughter came over her. “I _am_ fond of you, Harry, but you always have had a rather limited imagination.” 

“Well, you do seem happy.” Harry raised his pint in a toast, smiling at her in earnest though he was still flustered and a bit red in the face. Ginny joined in, all three of their glasses clinking. “I suppose this does explain why Malfoy’s been less of a nightmare at work the past few months, so good on you both!” 

* * *

After she told Harry and Ginny, after Hermione and Draco snogged in the middle of the Leaky to the general hooting and fanfare of their peers, after George Weasley, apparent loser of a high-stakes bet, reluctantly passed Theo Nott several Galleons...

After all of that, when they were fairly deep in their cups, Ginny cornered Hermione at a small corner table, dimly illuminated by an enchanted candle. She plunked herself down and leaned over to Hermione conspiratorially, winking one eye closed with a shrewd if tipsy smile. “So what’s it like with Malfoy?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione took a prim sip of her firewhisky. 

“What’s it like? Being with him?” Ginny rested her head on Hermione’s shoulder before pulling back and smiled up at her sweetly. 

She could have deflected, brushed it off. But the question seemed so sincere, and it was all so newly public that she hadn’t had a chance to discuss their relationship with anyone yet. Hermione sighed. “It’s going to sound daft,” she said softly. 

“Try me.” 

“My whole life,” Hermione began, “everyone has tried to make me smaller. Not just my body, but my _personality._ I take up space in a number of ways, I just _do_ , and there’s so much pressure not to.” She paused, a pensive twist to her lips. “Ron always used to say he didn’t mind my size —”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Circe, my brother’s such a prat.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “We were young. And I know he meant well, even though it stung. But Malfoy _loves_ my body, truly … can’t get enough of it. He doesn’t _tolerate_ my wide hips or my loud opinions or my career ambitions; they’re all things he especially _likes_ about me. He wants as much of me as he can get. And so I don’t ever have to worry about him trying to make me _smaller_. In any way.”

“That’s lovely.” Ginny had a slightly misty look in her eye. She clutched Hermione’s hand with the particularly earnest vigor of sloshed friends everywhere. “And very … _real._ Truly.” Then she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, her smile shifting from sincere to wicked. “And here I thought you were just going to tell me about his cock.” 

Hermione snorted. “Slim chances.”

“Ah, so it _is_ slender then.” Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulders in triumph. 

“Nice try.” Hermione sniffed. Ginny was forever goading people into talking about genitalia. “It’s perfectly proportional and I’ll say no more.”

A far-off look came over Ginny’s features and she leaned back in her chair, eyes glazed and half-closed. “I’d wager … five inches, slender but ... dignified ... circumcised, with a nice, subtle curve.” She made a corresponding hand gesture, shocking in its precision, before coming out of her reverie.

Hermione shuddered, sure that her flushed face betrayed her friend’s accuracy. “I’ll never get used to that.” Ginny’s favorite party trick was her mystifying ability to discern a penis’s true nature, sight unseen. 

Ginny grinned. “Not wrong though, was I?”

“You’re uncanny.” Hermione tucked an errant curl behind her ear and looked away, still blushing. “It’s extremely unnerving and I’ll never understand how you manage it.” 

Ginny shrugged jovially. “What can I say? We all have our talents. I never asked to be the Dick Whisperer, it was simply —”

Hermione groaned, knowing from lived experience what came next. “— No, Gin, please —”

“— thrust upon me!” She smiled with all of her teeth. Hermione groaned. “Seriously though,” Ginny continued, waggling her brows suggestively. “What’s the height difference like, when it comes to sex?”

Feeling eyes on her neck, Hermione looked up to find Draco staring at her from across the room. He appeared to be multitasking; while chatting amiably with Harry, he was also sending her a secret message with his gaze, another psychic missive detailing how her dress, lovely as it was, would look much better on his bedroom floor. 

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.” Hermione lifted her chin and fluffed her hair, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “But it does have … certain advantages.” 

* * *

Draco pulled her down into a breathless kiss the moment they had Apparated into his flat. “I can’t wait another moment to have you, Granger. _Looking_ at me like that all night. In this damned dress.” He tugged at the offending garment as he ran his hands over her back.

“Push me against the wall,” Hermione whispered coarsely as she came up for air. 

Draco walked her back until she collided with the cool plaster. “Like this?” He pinned her wrists to the wall on either side of her head, one coy blond brow raised as he stepped into her. “Do you like that?” He wedged his knee between her legs, using it to hike the hem of her sweater dress up above the lip of her wool stockings, leaving a broad swath of her pale thighs exposed. 

“Yes,” Hermione sighed, arching into him as she felt his cock hardening against her thigh. His lips were right at the level of her clavicle, and he lavished wet kisses along it, darting up to nip gently at her throat. She ground her hips against his erection, seeking friction against her clit. Her knickers had been wet all night and she blamed the hours of his eyes on her from across the bar.  
  
Draco released her wrists and yanked her dress up, smoothing his deft, perfect fingers over the swell of her bare belly. He tugged the dress free of her head and regarded her as she stood before him in her lacy burgundy lingerie. The way he was looking at her simply set her aflame. “Merlin, Granger.” His voice was thick, pebbled with desire. “I want so badly to bury my face in your tits.”

“Please.” She held her hands back up against the wall, smirking at him knowingly, and he closed his fingers around her wrists again.

“This alright?” Draco asked. He stood before her in the dim beam of a streetlamp that shone through the window, peering up at her, his face luminous and beautiful.

“Yes.” Her voice strained with impatience. “More, Malfoy. _Please.”_

He pressed his face into her cleavage, humming low in his throat. “Gods, Granger. You really do have the most exquisite breasts.” He released her wrists, pushing her breasts together as he buried his face in them. He worked the wide strap of her bra with his teeth, yanking it down over her shoulder and pulling one lacy cup down to free her breast. She inhaled sharply as he palmed and squeezed it, grasping it with one hand as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. With deft, efficient fingers, he released her from the bra, turning his attention to her other breast before kissing his way down her sternum and dropping to his knees. 

Draco dragged his beautiful pointy nose, his beautiful pointy chin, all of the beautiful pointy lovely oblique angles of his face gently over the soft slopes of her belly. “You’re gorgeous, Granger. A goddess, truly.” His breath was as ragged as hers, his voice reverent, and she felt his eyelashes fluttering against the sensitive skin just below her navel. He slid his hands beneath her and up under the lace of her knickers, gripping her arse in greedy handfuls, blinking up at her. “Have I told you that you’re absolutely perfect?”

“Not since yesterday, I think.” Hermione shivered slightly as she leaned back against the cool wall, quirking her lips down at him. “You’re slouching a bit, really.”

“Ah, my mistake, then. Perhaps I can remedy it somehow.” His crooked grin glinted up at her as he painstakingly worked the lace of her knickers down over her hips. 

“Not yet, though,” she said as she stepped out of them. “Up. You’re wearing far too many clothes.” She backed him up against the opposite wall and made short work of the buttons of his white shirt. She bent her neck down to kiss him, pressing her body against his. The warmth of his chest against her breasts, his abs against her belly, sent a searing jolt through her. Not breaking the kiss, she reached between them to touch his hard cock through the wool of his trousers, rubbing it gently. “Lose these, please,” she muttered against his mouth as she unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. “Pants too.”

Draco stepped out of his trousers and stood naked before her, red-faced and panting, eyes dark, perfect hair delightfully disheveled. The very best thing about how put-together he was was how satisfying it was to watch him come completely apart for her. 

Hermione knelt before him on the blonde wood floor, nuzzling her cheek against the velvet soft head of his cock, the specifications of which matched Ginny’s hypothesis to an alarming degree. About average size, perhaps slightly smaller, but well-matched to his body, a svelte and graceful cock that made her cunt ache with want. 

One of the many things that made Malfoy’s cock perfect for her was that it wasn’t too big. Some subs wanted to be used until they were gagging and crying, and while she respected that, it wasn’t what she liked, personally. She definitely wanted it rough, and she wanted to be on the receiving end, but she wanted to maintain some control as well ... and in truth, she wasn’t all that hardcore. 

She sucked the head into her mouth, swiping her tongue around it as he groaned, then pulled back with a pop and gazed up at him from under hooded eyes. There were fantasies she could act out with him that just wouldn’t be as enjoyable if his cock were any bigger. “Fuck my mouth, Malfoy.”

In moments like these, a specific kind of delighted disbelief illuminated his face, as though he were a child who had asked for a pony for Christmas and couldn’t quite believe it when he’d actually gotten one. 

“Oh, you want me to fuck your mouth?” His voice was husky, playful, and sexy as hell, but the question was as sincere as it was erotic.

“Yes,” she laughed, cupping his balls gently, causing him to close his eyes and make soft, urgent noises. _“Please,_ yes, Draco, I wouldn’t tell you to do something if I didn’t desperately want you to do it.” 

Satisfied, he guided his cock into her mouth, tightening his fingers in her hair. She felt a throbbing need for him twisting low in her pelvis as he held her head still and thrust into her mouth, moaning as she hollowed her cheeks around his length.

It was an unbelievable turn-on that he could fuck her mouth hard like this, take her exactly the way she wanted him to, and barely hit her gag reflex. The combination of him taking charge but doing exactly what she wanted him to do was something she’d dreamed of, but never had with anyone else. 

All at once, Draco pulled her head back gently and looked down at her, desperate and disheveled. “Get on the bed, Granger,” he said. “I want to come inside of you.” 

She clambered onto the bed and got on her hands and knees, wagging her bottom at him playfully. 

“You’re killing me, Granger.” Draco moaned as he knelt at the foot of the bed, pulling her thighs towards him. “Should I spank you?” 

“Spank me hard,” she said over her shoulder, holding the duvet with both hands.

“How hard?” Draco asked, grazing his teeth teasingly over the full cheeks of her arse. “This hard?” His open palm hit her arse. Hermione arched her back and shuddered. 

“Harder.” She braced herself, her clit throbbing in anticipation as he soothingly rubbed his hand over the spot where the first blow had landed, and then struck her again. He was very good at these games. “Please,” she whined. “I need your mouth.”

Draco began nipping at her thighs from where he still knelt at the foot of the bed behind her, kissing his way up to her cunt. It wasn’t the world’s best angle, but the sheer reality of him eating her out from behind was irresistible. Reaching a hand around to stroke her clit, Draco dipped his tongue further into her folds. Hermione cried out, rocking against his hand. 

Draco’s mouth disappeared, only to be replaced by his other hand. Casting a lubrication spell, he thrust into her cunt with first two, then three fingers, canting them deliciously against her g-spot on each thrust. “Fuck, yes, Malfoy. More!”

“Can you take more, Granger?”

Hermione had dropped onto her elbows, her face buried in a pillow as she surrendered to the ecstasy of his touch. She turned her head and there he was, handsome as ever, silver eyes boring into her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Please,” she murmured. “More.” 

Draco added a fourth finger while she was still looking back at him, and it was true; his hands were smaller than other men she’d been with, but the fact that he had four fingers inside of her was so alluringly illicit that it sent her over the edge. His other hand had not stopped rubbing against her clit, and as he hit her g-spot again, she spasmed around his hands, crying out and clutching the linens as a wave of unrelenting pleasure moved through her. Her thighs shook, and she felt her come soaking his hands. Fuck, he was good. He kept stroking her as she rode out her release and came down.  
  
Time seemed to stop for a moment, then sped up in a euphoric blur: his mouth on hers, his hands over hers. His teeth on her shoulder. His perfect cock inside of her, first from behind, then with her on top, until he was coming and then she was coming again and they were both coming, together, clutching each other, moaning each other's names. 

And after, he held her so sweetly, pressing kisses into her back under the quiet of deep night. In a minute, she would be the big spoon, which was truly one of her callings in life. In all likelihood, they’d fall asleep like that, as she relished the way he nestled into her, only one of the many ways their bodies made sense together, and in the morning, probably they would make breakfast together. She'd ask to borrow a shirt, and he'd toss her his Quidditch jumper, which she would insist was too small, and which he would insist was perfectly snug. It _was_ true that her tits looked incredible in it. And then, after breakfast, most likely, he would delight in taking it off of her, and they would do some version of this all over again.

But now, just now, Hermione laid her hand over his where it rested on her belly. Now, Draco had pressed his profile against the space between her shoulder blades, a space that, in this moment, felt as though it had been specially designed for exactly and only this purpose.

It was a perfect fit.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> You can find me [on tumblr as grangerdangerfics](https://grangerdangerfics.tumblr.com).
> 
> *Posting date changed to 7/1/2020 to match fest reveal date.*
> 
> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.


End file.
